3-Way

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All Rise...

Although its title falsely promises loads of ménage à trois, Judge Patrick Bromley finds this flimsy film noir replete with homage du fromage.

The Charge

A sinfully tasty, hard-boiled brew of sex, extortion, and murder.

Opening Statement

Don't get your hopes up, folks—despite some clever marketing on the
part of Columbia TriStar (the cover of the DVD features pictures of stars
Dominic Purcell, Ali Larter, and Gina Gershon, and leaves the viewer to draw his
or her own conclusion), the infamous act referred to in the film's title does
not take place here. Go rent Wild
Things. Or Wild Things 2.

Facts of the Case

3-Way (which, by the way, appears in the opening titles as Three
Way…go figure) opens with Lew (Dominic Purcell, John Doe, Equilibrium) being dumped virtually
mid-coitus by his wife, whom he discovers on a boat in the arms of another
man—both dead—in the very next scene. If that doesn't grab
you—and it shouldn't—then you should probably go ahead and turn
3-Way off at this point. It ain't getting much better.

Cut to several months later. Still reeling from the inexplicable maritime
murder of his no-good-cheatin' wife, Lew has taken up residence in a sleepy town
(it's either "Out West" or "Down South"—the
cliché remains unclear to me) as a sign painter. One night, while unveiling
his latest Charhouse masterpiece, Lew overhears a young couple—sexy/stupid
Ralph (Desmond Harrington, Wrong
Turn) and sexy/dirty Isobel (Ali Larter, Varsity Blues, Final Destination 2)—plotting a
kidnapping. Lew takes it upon himself to intervene, become a hero, and collect
the ransom all at once (how this works exactly is never made clear—shame
on me for seeking logic), bringing in his realtor girlfriend, Rita (Joy Bryant,
Honey), to help pull it off.

Shockingly, things don't go exactly as planned—if they ever did in
films like this, the well would have dried up even sooner than it already has
(and if 3-Way is any indication, it has). Dwight Yoakam (The Newton Boys, Panic Room) shows up, claiming to be aware
of Lew's involvement in the murder of his wife (the one on the boat) and
blackmailing him for information. The kidnapping victim, Ralph's wife Florence
(Gina Gershon, Bound, Prey for Rock and Roll), turns out to
be a less-than-cooperative captive. Rita might be up to more than she lets on.
Ralph and Isobel can't seem to stop gettin' freaky. Lew can't seem to stop
brooding. And the movie—it just can't seem to end.

The Evidence

3-Way is a bad movie disguised as a slightly better one. It's slick
and polished on the surface, giving the appearance of a skillful and
accomplished modern-day film noir—it's only when you pay any
attention to the story or the performances that you come to realize just how
hollow it all is. It rehashes a plot so tired it's narcoleptic (and, according
to the Internet Movie Database, is based on a 1963 pulp novel called Wild to
Possess), inserts some daytime-soap-attractive actors, and adds a liberal
dose of sex in an attempt to keep things lively, yet can't seem to help but fall
flat in every department. Quite simply, it doesn't work.

The film desperately wants to employ conventions of film noir in an
attempt to evoke the best of that genre, but has no real understanding of what
makes true film noir work—it's more than just crime and sexuality.
For starters, 3-Way is too easy on its protagonist; he's basically
smarter than every other character on the film, which doesn't allow for him to
be manipulated by anyone else. Manipulation is a must for good noir, and
it's usually the central character being manipulated, either through greed or
through sex—or both. 3-Way's Lew certainly demonstrates some
greed—he wants a bunch of money because he's "owed it" after a
string of hard luck—but the film never allows it to get the better of him.
Nor is he required to pay any price for that greed—the film wants him to
get away with it. And despite all the sex on hand, the film really never knows
how to use it—not by noir standards, at least. It should be a tool
for manipulation; either our hero should want to sleep with someone so badly
he's willing to do something stupid, or is currently enjoying sleeping with
someone so badly he's willing to do something stupid to keep doing it. The only
sex found in 3-Way is done by people whom we would expect to be having
it: Lew has sex with his girlfriend, and Ralph has sex with Isobel (okay, those
last two are having an affair, but they're just peripheral
characters—there's no moral or dramatic dilemma surrounding their sex
life). No one uses sex or the promise of it as a tool to get what they want,
making its inclusion meaningless to the story—it's just exploitation.

The utter lack of a convincingly hapless noir protagonist or femme
fatale in 3-Way might just be for the best, as the actors cast in the
film would most likely not be up to the challenge. Dominic Purcell, as Lew,
turns in one of the most singularly uninteresting performances in recent
memory—every line is given the exact same intonation and half-whispered
tough-guy treatment. His counterpart, former model Joy Bryant, is just as pretty
but just as wooden. She's a blank slate the whole way through, unable to conjure
up what little character doubt the film requires of her—as the closest
thing to a femme fatale on hand in the film, Bryant doesn't fit the bill.
For whatever reason, Gina Gershon accepted a small but important role in this
mess, and one keeps hoping that she'll somehow be able to turn it around when
she finally shows up. That hope remains unfulfilled—the part is too
underwritten and Gershon too seldom seen to really register. She may make the
most of her screen time, but can't make a difference overall. Only Dwight
Yoakam, in an equally brief role, is really able to elevate the film during his
scenes—he's effective in a quietly menacing role that, once again, the
film isn't really sure what to do with.

Director Scott Ziehl (Earth vs. The
Spider) works overtime to stylize the film, whipping up frenzied doses of
cinematic technique to compensate for a weak story—it's as though he
learned somewhere that good film noir is most often a masterful exercise
in style and atmosphere, but didn't bother to recognize that the style and
atmosphere have to serve the story, not just show off. Sure, there are jump cuts
and rack zooms galore in 3-Way, but to what effect? The whole thing is a
bit cinematically masturbatory by nature, suggesting that if its stylistic
conceits don't exist to add anything to the film, they're there for no one but
Ziehl himself.

Unlike Ziehl's visual flourishes, Columbia TriStar's DVD of 3-Way
actually does go a long way towards masking the film's flaws. The 1.85:1
anamorphic transfer looks sharp; the slightly drained color scheme is given
strong balance, and there are no perceivable image flaws (unless, of course, you
consider the activities that happen on screen "image flaws"). The 5.1
Dolby audio track is actually far more interesting than some recent
higher-profile releases—it's atmospheric and energetic in a film that is
neither. For reasons far beyond my realm of understanding, the disc is subtitled
in no less than eight languages; apparently, there is a large demand for
3-Way in Portugal. A few bonus trailers—primarily for other
sexually-charged-crime-thriller crapfests like Wild Things 2 and Cruel Intentions 3—are also
included.

Closing Statement

Save for the allure of Ali Larter's backside, 3-Way has nothing new to
offer the world. There are countless better film noirs, both classic (see the
recent review of the film noir collection Shadows, Lies, and Private
Eyes) and contemporary (Blood
Simple and Red Rock West come to mind)—not to mention better
vehicles in which to see Gina Gershon squander her talent (do I even need to
mention Showgirls?). Check out one of
those and skip 3-Way—I've done the hard work for you.

The Verdict

The Court finds 3-Way guilty of false advertising, excessive
stylishness, and bad casting, and hereby sentences that the film twist and turn
in upon itself until it implodes. That oughta learn it.